Josiah. (Looking very good natured). Yes, Samantha, we men know that hain’t no harder on ’em than mailin’ a letter. If I dast, I’d tell you the real reason why we male statesmen oppose wimmins’ votin’, but I dassen’t tell, it is a state secret, jealously guarded by us male law-makers.
Samantha. I wish you would tell me, Josiah. Men’s talk on this subject is so strange and queer I’d love to know the real truth.
Josiah. (Firmly). And I’d love to tell you, Samantha, but I dassen’t. We male men have guarded that political secret as we have the very apples in our eyes. (Shaking his head solemnly). No, as much store I set by you, Samantha, I don’t dast to tell you.
(Samantha sits thinking deeply with her fingers on her forehead, then her face brightens up and she says gently). I thought, Josiah, that mebby you’d like to have me put on the tea-kittle and git a little lunch, we eat supper ruther early.
Josiah. (Heartily). Yes, I would like it, one of your good lunches would go to the spot, I guess I will tell you after all. But remember it is in strict confidence. We male men oppose wimmens’ votin’ because we want to keep the power in our own hands, and kinder boss round, and we talk about the hardships of wimmens’ votin’ and call ’em angels and so on jest as the doctor gives morphine to his patients to quiet ’em, and keep ’em still. But don’t you tell for your life, Samantha Allen. If it wuz known in high political circles that I’d let the cat out of the bag, I’d no but I’d be imprisoned or exiled as a traitor and political informer.
Samantha. No, I won’t git you into any trouble, Josiah. I’d mistrusted that wuz it for some time, but didn’t know it for certain till now.
Josiah. Well, don’t you let on to Miss Gowdey or any other woman if you want me to keep a hull skin. And don’t you think it is time to hang on the tea-kittle?
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.